Chapter Seven: The One In Which Puck Performs.

vii: It's the wrong kind of place, to be thinking of you.

Rachel adjusts the glasses sitting on her head, wishing she could pull them down over her eyes again for the fifth time that day. Her eyes are stinging – no, burning – with the lack of sleep. She's not quite sure what time she fell asleep at, but she does know it felt like just as she did wander into dreamland, her phone rang with a quizzical Mr. Abrams on the other line.

Today is slightly important as they have their final audition. See, Rachel already has a bias against this man. He requested an audition, but couldn't do it during the actual auditions because he was doing a show, and instead wanted his own personal day in October. He has some gall is her opinion. Mr. Abrams thinks he has experience though, and Brittany tends to agree.

So, here she is, Friday afternoon with a raging headache, burning eyes and a tiredness in her bones, waiting for this diva to show up. He has some gall, she thinks again.

Brittany is sitting to her right, and Mr. Abrams to her left. She likes him. He's kind and bright, with a genial tone and a funny sense of humour. Yet, he's hard-working and knows what he's talking about. Rachel can certainly admire that in a person.

She glances at her watch, and notes that he's ten minutes late. Who does he think he is? She has call-backs later this afternoon, and he's wasting her time. Just as Rachel is about to voice this opinion to her two companions, in strolls the man himself. He's taller than she had pictured; slender, pale with dark, curly and unruly hair. Wearing a grey v-neck t-shirt that would usually indicate some degree of 'camp' to her, and black jeans, he looks hot.

She still doesn't like him. Especially when he opens his mouth, and that saunter becomes something that irritates her. "Jesse St. James, here for the role of Roger. You ready?"

"When you are," Mr. Abrams replies with a smile. (She doesn't like to call him by his first name yet – doesn't know if she can.) He merely nods, then gives the signal to the pianist. He starts eerily quiet, and against her wishes, her treacherous body has goosebumps all over.

"I'm Writing One Great Song Before I .." He looks appropriately pained, genuinely feeling the song so much that for a moment – just a moment – she almost believes him.

"One Song
Glory
One Song
Before I Go
Glory
One Song To Leave Behind.."

His acting is superb. His voice is excellence. His look is perfect. She can't find fault – even if she does want to.

"One Song
He Had The World At His Feet
Glory,"

He's walking towards them then, off the stage towards their place in the seats. His eyes bore into hers, sincerity and genuinity – not to mention raw passion – in every word he sings,

"In The Eyes Of A Young Girl
A Young Girl
Find Glory
Beyond The Cheap Colored Lights"

"Find

One Song
A Song About Love
Glory
From The Soul Of A Young Man.."
A Young Man," He's running back onto the stage again, his voice remaining exactly in tune and not missing a beat. She hates that she's so impressed.

"Time Flies
And Then - No Need To Endure Anymore
Time Dies,"

The final note is so wonderful that she wants to clap and cheer uproariously, but her pride keeps her seated. Not to mention her professionalism. Brittany, however, disregards this and claps anyway. Rachel shoots her a glare and clears her throat. She can see his already swollen ego swell a little more.

As Brittany is opening her mouth to – probably – gush, Rachel says in a sweet sickly tone, "Thank you, we'll be in touch." Much to her surprise, he bows his head and thanks them before leaving the stage.

"Um, YES." Mr. Abrams says, and Rachel sighs.

"You're right."

"He's the perfect Roger, Rach! His hair is curly as well, which means he's bendy and good for dancing."

Mr. Abrams looks at her curiously, and Rachel tells him it's better not to ask. She can't refrain from pointing out what annoys her though, "He looks like he'll be a glory-grabber alright! Good song to pick. And also, I specifically asked no Rent songs and there he goes, doing a Roger.."

"He did it well."

"That doesn't matter!"

"... I'm pretty sure it does, Rachel." He calls her by her first name, and she's surprised for a moment.

"Well, Artie, I do believe I'm in charge here." There's a silence in which all of them digest what she just said.

"Who's being the glory-grabber now?" Brittany laughs nervously, attempting to melt the tension.

The look on his face makes her feel guilty, and she knows what she said was wrong. "Oh, I'm sorry. I just took an instant dislike to him – I'll remedy that, don't worry. Now, who have we got for which parts?"

Brittany produces the list of call-backs, and they begin to go through the various names. Those who they've forgotten are deemed not worthy, and are already cast off. Rachel insists they need to be memorable. If they can't at the very least be memorable, then it's a no from her. Harsh, she's aware.

"Mercedes Jones.." Artie trails off, "I haven't gotten to see her properly yet, but she's coming in today?"

"Yes. She's amazing, and I want her for Maureen."

"Maureen?" Mr. Abrams frowns, "Wouldn't she be a better Joanne, by looking at her at the very least?"

"But she's got this sass and confidence that is so Maureen." Brittany speaks up, agreeing with Rachel for once.

Mr. Abrams then reminds them that the call-backs are in five, and so they quickly decide on those that they've to pay special attention to. Rachel's excited – beyond excited. Not only will she have her decision on her cast by tonight, but also, Finn is auditioning.

This will be good, and she knows it.

(She also knows that by the end of the day, no one will top Jesse, and she'll have to cast him somewhere.)

Today it's busy. She hates it when it's busy. Why? Because often, she can't follow what's going on around her – and my god, why do they ask for so much? Never mind her, how do they remember all that caffeine they order? That's why she always hopes they don't notice when she gives them normal, ordinary coffee.

Funny thing is, a lot of them don't notice. She wonders why they go through the extra trouble... trying to be special or something, she assumes.

Brittany can't quite empathise there, because she's a unicorn. Which means she's magical – she has an inner magic and uniqueness that is her. She doesn't need to try to be special, she simply is. Brittany has many other unicorns in her life; those who are magical in themselves, and aren't afraid to show it. Of course, none of them are as awesome as her. But they can try.

She's not quite sure why she works here. Brittany's pretty awful at pleasing customers in a non-sexual manner, and she very rarely remembers orders correctly and often completely forgets about a customer. What's more is that her friends always come in for coffee and sit around and chat... How can Brittany resist doing the same? Which is why she resigns herself to another lecture from her boss – she's lucky that he's infatuated with her – as Santana walks in from work.

"Hey B," She smiles, and sits down on the couch. She lets out a long sigh and asks her for a normal coffee.

Brittany's grateful, and lets her know as much. That order is definitely manageable. She gets it in record time (it's Santana, of course she'd be courteous and timely for her) and brings it back to her friend, then taking a seat next to her. Santana laughs, "Shouldn't you be working?"

She shrugs, "Probably." Brittany watches as Santana cradles the coffee in her hands and leans her head back against the sofa, her eyes closing in exhaustion. Brittany lightly runs a comforting hand through her hair, "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, just a hectic time in work."

"Me too." Brittany nods, and Santana opens her eyes again to eye her amusedly. "I had, like, four orders today. It's pretty mental."

"Since nine?"

"Mm-hmm. I was surprised, too. I got two out of the four right as well.."

"That's great, B." They're silent for a few peaceful moments, with Brittany glancing over her shoulder for her boss. He doesn't seem to be in plain sight and so she relaxes a little more, stroking her friends hair slowly. (She knows it soothes Santana, even if the woman would never admit it.)

"Are you going to Puck's bar tonight?"

"You know it's not actually Puck's bar, don't you, Brittany?"

"Well he doesn't own it. But he owns it, if you know what I mean."

Santana just smiles (another would receive a bitchy comment) and goes on, "Anyway, I don't think so. I know he'll be a little pissed, but Blaine asked me to go to a business dinner with him and I already said yes."

Brittany picks up empty cups of coffee on the table in front of them. They're sitting on a three-seater couch, with two arm chairs either side and a coffee table in the middle. It's not unlike the set-up in their sitting room. Pulling her cloth from the pouch in her apron, she wipes the table down gently. "You're really serious about him, aren't you?" Santana opens her eyes once again quickly, putting down her coffee, but before she can speak, Brittany beats her to it, "I think it's good. Oh my god, San, there's this guy in our musical and he's-he's absolutely adorable. And not in a baby way, but in a 'I-would-do-you-even-with-Lord-Tubbington-in-the-room' way."

She shifts a little. "Oh?"

Brittany smiles brightly, like a little child, "Yeah! I'm thinking of seducing him with my Britney-like qualities. How can he resist? Unless he has a Britney repellent like I read online. Did you know that non-blonde's have this ability to just ignore Britney and those like her?"

"Really?" She's always been so understanding and kind to Brittany, in a way that she isn't to others. That's why they're best friends. There's an innocence in Brittany that Santana loves, because when she's with her, she feels innocent, too. She feels carefree and calm; like she hasn't seen the things no one should, like she has no cares, like she hasn't got a quick-fire temper.

"Yep. Britney's manager is apparently trying to find a cure."

"Where the hell do you read this stuff, Brit?"

The girl looks confused, as if the answer should be obvious, "Wikipedia."

Before Santana can reply, Finn enters and falls into the armchair to the right of them. He's looking pensive and troubled, so naturally Brittany wants to know what is wrong. She hates when her friends are sad – rainbows can't happen unless everyone is happy. Duh. He has his 'man-bag' – as Puck calls it – from class and his coat and jacket is still on.

"Finn?" Santana speaks first, looking at him quizzically.

He jumps, as if only realising they were there, "Oh, hey. Brittany, could I have a cappuccino, please?"

She nods, knowing she's going to just give him a normal coffee, "Sure."

He shakes his head, as if clearing all thoughts, and sends Santana a smile, "How was work?"

"Oh, busy. How was Glee practice? You know, sometimes, I wonder if Kurt's overwhelming gay presence has affected you. No one would blame you if you turned out that way."

"Funny." He replies, deadpan. "It was interesting. One of the girls is a bit in love with me, actually," he admits. "Like Rachel was with our teacher back in the day."

"Are you sure she doesn't just want the lead?"

He shrugs, "Maybe. Doubtful though, she sang to me today.. Anyway, more importantly -" He stops as Brittany places the coffee in front of him, and he sips it. "Brittany this is awful. It's normal coffee."

"I don't like weird coffee."

He sighs, unwilling to fight her on it – cause him and Brittany are like, usually, totally on the same wavelength - "As I was saying, more importantly, I went to Rachel's stupid call-backs today."

"You do know you're going to have to eventually stop calling them stupid."

He waves her off, "Probably. But there was this absolute douchebag there – his name was Jamie or something, a girls name – that Rachel wouldn't stop fawning over. It was disgusting. I couldn't believe she'd be so...so..."

"Not in love with you?" Santana smirks.

Brittany gasps, "You and Rachel are together?"

He shoots her an impatient look, "No. And no. Why do I even bother with you two?"

"Ask myself the same question." Puck announces as he strolls in, Quinn not far behind him. Puck takes the other armchair, while Quinn sits beside Santana on the couch. Brittany is looking at them expectantly for an order.

"I'll have a blueberry muffin and some water, B."

"I'm good." Puck tells her, and then nods at Finn, "What's got your knickers in a twist?"

Santana gets there before him, "Rachel."

His brows shoot up, "Ah. Literally? Cause if so, well done, man. 'Bout time,"

"No, Rachel would have called and told me," Quinn corrects, and then motions for Finn to talk.

"Look, I'm just -"

"A puppy in love." Brittany chirps, handing Quinn her order. It's what she asked for, and Brit receives an appraising look from her friend.

"No, I'm -"

"Hot for Berry." Puck smirks.

Santana decides to join in, "A longing loser for Rach."

"Oh, that's a good one," Puck comments. "Hard for 'cards' again with Rachel."

Quinn laughs, "Cards.. is this the metaphor we're using now?"

"Screw you guys." Finn grumbles, taking a sip of his 'disgusting' coffee.

"Well, the only person that would want to hear you whine about this is a professional and that's only because they're paid."

"Thanks, Santana." It sounds like a heartfelt reply. Finn did want their opinions though, but being the tools they are, they hadn't even let him get to the ins of the story. Which is that Rachel is falling for this arrogant star in theatre. What kind of guy makes theatre his living? Talk about stupid. What really annoys Finn is that he's good. Much better than Finn, who has a little experience in theatre from his high school days and directing as a teacher. He hates being beaten in his strengths – strengths being his voice and well, that's it. He's sure there's much more he's forgetting, but right now, his voice is the important one.

He's lost whatever his friends are talking about now, but finds that he doesn't care. It's been a taxing day and they never talk about anything of interest anyway. Just as that thought comes to him, Puck throws a piece of Quinn's muffin at him.

"Hey! I'll have to clean that!" Brittany objects, frowning. "Cleaning isn't for hot people."

"And you're wasting my food," Quinn adds.

"You could do with eating less, anyway," Finn watches as Quinn's face morphs from shock, to anger, to calm again.

"Noah Puckerman, you are very lucky that I need you tonight." The words are barely out of her mouth when she realises what she said. Puck has a satisfied smirk on his face, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. "You know I meant I need a night out in your bar."

"Sure you did, Blondie. Finn, you coming tonight?"

"Well, -"

"No, that wasn't right. You don't have much of a choice, it was more a, what time you coming at tonight?"

Finn rolls his eyes, "Maybe I won't be there. Don't really fancy it... Besides, we all know you just want some groupies."

"Come on, he'll get the groupies from the underage girls." Santana replies candidly.

"Exactly. Just some moral support guys, too much to ask?"

"Don't even try play the victim, mister." Quinn laughs. "You can't pull it off."

"You'll be there, won't you?" He asks, eyeing her.

She nods, "Yeah, but I won't really be paying attention to you, my friend. I've got more entertaining and attractive things coming with me."

"Than me? I doubt that."

Brittany nods vigorously, "I do, too." Puck high-fives her, and Santana rolls her eyes this time. Finn wonders how he became friends with such a diverse group of people. Puck, the man-whore sexshark; Brittany, the stereotypical dumb blonde; Santana, the hot bitch; Quinn, the cold queen of mean. And they're just the ones present now. He's not quite sure where he fits in, but the thing is, is that he knows he does fit in. There's a sense of belonging with these people that he thinks he'll always have. They've been with him through thick and thin, and that means some incredibly tough times. They all have some sort of history.

He wonders what tonight will bring. Lately, all of them have been quite good in not crossing boundaries. "Who's going tonight, Puck?"

The man frowns for a moment, mentally counting up the people, "Out of those that I know... Quinn, whoever she's bringing, Hummel, Brit, Rachel, you, Mike.. That's it. San, go?"

"I told you I'm going to dinner. Don't fancy swapping that for bursting my eardrums."

"I'm good, and you know it. Just drop by after dinner? There'll be something in it for you," He winks.

"Been there, done that. Not that great." She flashes him a wide smile.

"Alright baby, if you wanna' play it that way. Let's not forget whose name you screamed one of the times... maybe it's an indicator if you really didn't enjoy it. Because, believe me, there's never been a girl not pleased with the Puckerman." No one fully understands what he's trying to say here, which pleases Santana who sends him a sickly sweet smile, but says nothing.

"I think he's organic, Santana." Brittany nods.

Quinn frowns, bemused, "Do you mean orgasmic, Brit?" she turns to Puck then, "And will you ever stop referring to yourself in third person? And Finn, cop on. So Rachel's infatuated – are you? If not, then shut up and move on. What's it to you anyway?"

He mutters something unintelligible, and Santana picks up on it, "What's that? Pining for wanky with Rachel?"

Finn knows Quinn's right. Why the hell is he acting like this? It's a combination of things, really. Not just the Rachel thing – he's stressed over the student in love with him, too. Not to mention how he's going to memorise lines if he gets a part in Rachel's production. Taking all of this into account, he still knows that his friend is right, and just laughs off Santana's comment. "Lopez, I've never met a woman who thinks more about sex than you."

She shrugs, "Women think about sex a lot, too. We're just not thick."

Finn nods in agreement for a moment. A beat, and then: "Hey!"

He had stayed a little longer than he should have in that coffee house – but that's him, always pushing boundaries and forgetting the time. Punctual is not in his vocabulary, and fashionably late is his middle name. Of course, Puck may have picked some of this up from his girl friends, but he had always been the late friend to everything. In High School, he and Quinn used to go to all events together because both of them were nearly guaranteed to be late. Granted, he's not a complete girl, she did usually take longer. And now, he's still ready before Lola. (Kurt.)

"Puckerman, you're gonna' need to look a little hotter to be on my stage," His boss, Lauren, tells him. She's something else, and that's something coming from him! She's overweight, not stunning like his other girl friends, but she's amazing. He's made out with her a few times, and always badgers her for a date, but she's turned him down so many times now that his pride is almost wounded. (It takes a lot to wound his pride. His ego can take hits and still stay inflated.) Somehow, she has an aura of incredible confidence which in turn is incredibly sexy. Tonight, she's donning horizontally striped grey and white leggings, a blue denim skirt, a pink top with a purple blazer over it. The blazer is to make her outfit more 'classy' she had said when he inquired. On her feet? A pair of cons.

Yeah, this woman speaks his language in many ways. He's pretty sure they'd never last long term (cause no one ever does – or rarely), but he'd sure as hell try. Or not. A one-night stand would do. She owns the bar he works in and manages it herself. Lauren's usually in every night, supervising and working the drinks, and is the one who asked him to perform. She's sang a couple of times, but not very much, and isn't that good. Let's face it, he's better.

At that thought, Puck's eyes flicker over to his guitar in the corner of the bar. "Whatever you say, Z. Puckzilla's always hot and ready."

Zizes. That's why he cleverly calls her 'Z'. "If you're willing to take that risk. Did you bring my bargain?"

Weeelll, he wasn't entirely honest when he said she asked him to perform. (He's not the most truthful person.) Actually, what had happened, went something like this: "Please, Z! Please? I'm on my knees here, help a dude out! Just one night, and if you're not completely blown away, never again. I'm hot and awesome, it's a deadly combination... Please, Lauren? Pleee-"

"Bring me a carton of cream eggs and two snicker bars and you've got yourself a deal. It'll be difficult, because they're not in season, but you try."

Being Puck, he did and he found them of course. He's a little bit amazing like that. Regardless of how it happened, he's here now and he's going to play for a bar full of people. He glances around. So, it's not quite full but there's about twenty people there and his friends haven't even arrived yet. Puck glances at his watch: 8:45. He's on in fifteen, so they better get here fast or he's gonna' have to ignore them for a while. He hates doing that because he's a heartfelt person, and it tends to torture them. He doesn't blame them – time without the Puckerman is difficult. He doesn't want to have to go to those lengths.

It's as he's pondering this that Finn, Mike and Kurt walk in, all laughing hysterically about something. It annoys him for some reason. They approach the bar, still laughing, and order their drinks. "About time losers. Was about to think you weren't coming."

"And miss this wonderful spectacle? Why, of course not, Puck. Besides, there's bound to be plenty of men here tonight."

"Penny, really?"

Kurt shrugs, "Why not."

Finn smiles brightly at him, "Nervous?"

Puck scoffs, "No. Puck doesn't get nervous."

Mike sits on the bar stool, "Seriously dude, you've got to stop referring to yourself in third person."

"You sound like Quinn." Puck grumbles, handing them their beer. Meaning, handing Mike and Finn their beers, and Kurt his appletini.

Finn pats Mike on the back, "And if he won't do it for Quinn, you've not got a chance, buddy."

"What's the supposed to mean?" Puck demands, "and what was so funny earlier?"

Mike chuckles, "It wasn't even that funny. Brittany locked herself in her room again,"

"Oh. She started performing spells again?"

"Yeah, but then she tried to escape by making a rope out of her sheets but it only reached the floor below us. And we all know how grumpy Mr. Sanders is!" Finn laughs.

Puck grins, "He's good fun. I-"

"Puck, you're on." Lauren interrupts, and then checks out his friends. She's met them many times before, but does this every time she see's them still. She winks at Finn – he thinks it's mostly to annoy him – and gestures for Puck to get a move on.

He gets his guitar and waits then for her to announce his arrival. As he's waiting, Quinn walks in with her latest beau, whose name he can't remember.

As fucking usual, she looks stunning and he hates it. (He doesn't really; he can't tear his eyes away. But either can the other men.) She's wearing tight, black jeans and black stiletto's with a low cut, tight red top. Her hair is curled lightly and she's wearing red lipstick that immediately draws his attention to her lips, which he so does not need. Forcing thoughts aside on how beautiful she is, he turns his head to the guy.

He's a douche. Puck can tell.

"Quinn, before we go further, you look amazing! Changing it up with the red lipstick, I see. I thought you'd never do it," Kurt grins, and Puck almost rolls his eyes.

She only smiles back and says lightly, "Oh,well, I thought I should change it up a little."

Finn finally snaps out of his daze and sends her a winning smile, "It suits you." Another douchebag. Why is he surrounded by them? Maybe he – or Quinn – attracts them.

"Thanks Finn," She looks surprised for some reason, and genuinely pleased.

"I told her she looked amazing earlier and she wouldn't believe me." Blondie with big lips speaks then, and Kurt laughs.

"That's Quinn for you! Changing her mind all the time, too."

"I'm Mike," He says, extending his hand to the male blond, "We've heard a lot about you. Not from Quinn of course, but Kurt."

Kurt blushes a little, "I spoke to you on the phone before."

Lippy chuckles genially, "I remember. Q couldn't stop apologising after.." He calls her Q. Puck. (And their friends, but that doesn't matter). "I'm Sam. Sam, I am." Who the fuck is this guy?

"Finn Hudson, and my brother is Kurt."

Puck can't stand this niceness. Shouldn't they be seeing if the guy is good enough first? Quinn's a fucking weapon, she deserves a stand-up guy. This guy? Well, his mouth isn't even proportion with the rest of him. And what the fuck is with the Bieber cut?

"Seriously dude," Puck begins, ignoring Quinn's warning glare, "How many tennis balls can you fit in your mouth?"

Blondie only looks at him, "I can't say I've ever had any balls in my mouth. Have you?"

Quinn and Finn laugh outright, and Puck flounders a little. This doesn't happen to him! No one ever actually speaks back. So he tries to deflect. "That's more Petunia's area."

"Puck!" Kurt objects, slapping him. He's such a girl.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, our mediocre barman with a guitar that I hope he knows how to use – Noah Puckerman!" Lauren presents him, and he strolls onto the stage. He nods to his friends and smiles, wanting to be perceived right. He doesn't have stage fright. (but by god does he fear rejection.)

Lauren sits down next to his friends, "I forgot his first name for a second there."

"It didn't show," Quinn replies nicely, but Lauren ignores her. Lauren's never liked her and Puck never knew why. Well, aside from the fact Quinn's a bit of a bitch – but she's never been to Lauren.

He starts off upbeat, and goes with 'Stereo Hearts'. It's an acoustic version so slightly different, but he pulls it off, "My Hearts a stereo,
it beats for you so listen close,
Hear my thoughts in every no-o-te.
Make me your radio,
and turn me up when you feel low.
This melody was meant for you,
so sing along to my stereo," People sing it with him, which gives him that small boost he needs.

He notices Rachel and Brittany slip in late, but doesn't mind – they came, and that's what's important. He's not offended in the slightest.

Quinn turns away from Puck for a moment, choosing to focus on her date. She thinks that's what he should be called, anyway. He's not her boyfriend yet, but she reckons it could be on the cards. She nudges him gently from her seat on the stool – he's standing – and lifts her chin, gesturing for a kiss. He complies happily, but they don't start 'making-out' or anything, because she generally doesn't do PDA. As they separate, she leans back against him and he wraps his arms around her.

She feels cherished, warm and safe in his arms. Quinn hasn't felt anyway like this towards a man in god knows how long (she knows exactly how long) and holds him that little bit tighter at the thought.

Rachel and Brittany arrive then, and there's a whole host of hello's. She introduces Sam to them, and both are perfectly nice. Brittany asks him how he does his hair like that, completely serious, but otherwise it's fine. She had warned him about Brittany anyway.

Rachel turns to Finn, "Something I simply have to discuss with you Finn, and I really hope you agree. Then again, maybe you did some male bonding during waiting time that I'm not aware of. Keep your competition close and all that. We are usually in sync with character judgements though, and so I was hoping you'd-"

"Rachel, I can only agree or disagree once I know what the hell you're talking about."

"Jesse, for gods sake!" She exclaims, seemingly thinking he should have known that.

Finn's face lights up, "You hate him, too?"

"Hate's a strong word, but I really don't like him." She replies with a frown – just thinking about him makes her frown! She and Finn separate into their own conversation as the others talk, going in depth as to what is annoying and irritating about the man known as Jesse St. James. Rachel knows it's wrong as a professional, but damn it, Finn is her best friend and the only one who knows him. (There's Brittany. But she likes him for some reason.)

"So, what's Puck's deal?" Sam asks Kurt and Quinn as a chat between them finishes.

Kurt hesitates before throwing it back to Quinn, "You didn't tell him about Puck?"

She wishes he hadn't said that. Had it been really necessary to say that? no. Just Kurt and his big mouth. With one look, she makes it clear she's not happy with him, and scrambles to find something to say to Sam, who's waiting patiently, "We.. We have a history, is all."

Kurt raises an eyebrow, puzzled, "It's a lot-"

"A history." Quinn repeats. Kurt finally gets the message and sinks back against his chair, silenced.

Sam nods, "I see. A jealous ex-boyfriend is to be contended with!"

Quinn genuinely laughs, "Jealous? God, no. Puck and I are long over, and it's both just platonic. No worries there, Sammy."

He pulls a face, "Sammy? Quinn," He whines, "I thought we agreed not to call me that."

"No, you agreed. I never said yes." Her smirk is devilish, and Sam can't help but swoop down and steal a kiss. When he's finished, he sends Kurt an apologetic look, "Sorry. Couldn't help myself."

"I don't blame you, my friend. If I were straight, I'd have snapped her up a long time ago!"

Quinn waves him off, and then something strikes her, "Hey, where's Mike, guys?"

Finn and Rachel stop talking for a moment and glance around. Both shrug, which makes them laugh, and declare that they don't know. Finn then remembers: "I think he took a call."

"Oh, okay. He often just disappears on nights out," Quinn explains.

Sam nods, "There's always a friend like that!" As Puck begins singing Mike Posners 'Cooler Than Me', Santana comes in with her 'boy', Blaine. Blaine, no surprises, is bright, friendly and warm as usual. He immediately introduces himself to Sam, and they begin chatting. They're from the same city coincidentally, and so talk excessively about it.

Santana nods to Quinn, "He's hot. If not a bit of a trouty mouth."

Kurt can't help but let a snort of laughter escape him, "Trouty mouth – that's brilliant!"

"How many times have I told you of my brilliance?" Santana counters jokingly.

Another round of drinks are bought, which has to be about the fifth round. Puck is winding down now, and all of his friends are a little drunk and cheering loudly at the end of each song. He's not complaining, because all the cheering looks good for him. Maybe Lauren will let him perform again. She let him on for longer than he was supposed to be on tonight. Granted, it's on his own time, but still.

His last song is one of his favourite's, and he calls everyone's attention as he starts, "So, this is my last track, guys. I know, it's awfully sad. But we should all request for Puck again to Lauren! For my last song, I'm gonna' sing one that I go way back with. It's been one of my favourites for years and I hope you all enjoy it. You've been a great audience, so thank you and have a killer night!"

Cheers all around. He begins as it dies down: "Hey, where did we go?" He plays softly, feeling the song with every inch of his being. He stands and opens his eyes, finding his friends in the corner.

"Days when the rain came.
Down in the hallow,
Playin' a new game,
Laughing' and runnin' – hey, hey,
Skippin' and a jumpin'.

In the misty morning fog with
Our hearts thumpin' and you
My brown eyed girl,

you, my brown eyed girl."

Rachel loves this song, and Puck knows that. She smiles up at him widely, believing it to be dedicated to her and the rest of his friends – after all Her, Santana, Quinn, Finn and Mike all have brown eyes. Quinn's are more hazel, but she tends to alternate between saying she has green or brown eyes.

It used to be brown, now she says green. Rachel doesn't bother arguing the hazel point anymore.

"Do you remember when we used to sing:

sha la la la la la la la la la la te da.." Santana, Rachel and Brittany sing along loudly while Finn does so more quietly. The whole bar is listening and singing, and Rachel thinks is just as much a testimony to the song as to Puck's musical ability. She glances back to see if Quinn is singing as it's one of her favourite's as well, but see's that the girl went to get a drink. She also see's Sam go to follow her.

"So hard to find my way,
Now that I'm all on my own.
Saw you just the other day,
My – how you have grown!

Cast my memory back there, Lord,
Sometimes I'm overcome thinking about,
Making love in the green grass
Behind the stadium with you,
My Brown eyed girl.

You, my brown eyed girl."

He's often overcome thinking about everything. At the end, his eyes return once again to his friends and they're all cheering madly. He grins at them and bows swiftly before exiting the stage.

"Quinn! Quinn, wait up, what are you doing?"

She's not listening to him, and so he pulls her back by the arm, "Don't you like the song? It's a classic," He tells her, as if she's insane.

Quinn looks at him irritably, "I know that." she snaps. Sam flinches slightly, and guilt immediately hits her. "Oh, I'm sorry, Sam. I just – that song is so overplayed. It used to be my favourite, but now – now it's just a broken record," she looks lost in thought for a moment, before finally realising where she is and laughing nervously, "So I came to get a drink. Want one?"

Before he can respond, she's calling over Lauren, "Two shots of tequila."

"But I don't dri-"

"It's just a shot, Sam," She looks up at him pleadingly, and there's something in her voice that makes him nod. He has some feeling that she needs him, and he's not about to turn her away. He's been drawn to her since that very first moment in her workplace, and hasn't looked back since. He thinks he might love her, but is terrified of scaring her, so he says nothing.

She pays Lauren, and clinks her shot glass with his. As she's knocking back the drink, Sam notices something on her hand. How could he not have noticed it before? Is he blind?

There's a tattoo on the side of her hand. It's in pretty, black, cursive writing and only a single word. After swallowing the burning poison that is tequila, he grabs her hand.

Beth.

"Who's Beth?" He questions softly. Her eyes, wide, dart to his and she retracts her arm quickly.

Kurt is having quite a nice night. Besides the fact that not only have Quinn and Sam disappeared, but also Puck, Rachel and Finn have developed their own conversation and he's left with Brittany, Santana and Blaine. Normally, that'd be fine, but for some reason, he feels there's a tension with Santana that she doesn't often carry. He has an urge to ask her, but knows better than to try to talk to her about feelings in public. Hell, it's hard to talk to Santana about feelings in private, never mind in front of people.

Blaine is telling them a funny joke from work, but Kurt can't quite concentrate. He knows he shouldn't. He knows it's wrong. But he just can't help himself – he's absolutely enraptured by the man known as Blaine Anderson. He's just the package. Blaine is the package. He's perfect in Kurt's eyes, and he fancies the pants off of him.

That thought sparks some dirtier ones that Kurt has to instantly shake off. Santana and Brittany laugh loudly, but he suspects Brittany doesn't actually get the joke and is just laughing because Santana is.

Blaine is smiling, and Kurt sighs happily. His perfect, white, dazzling teeth that are oh-so perfectly aligned light up the room and his charismatic and charming demeanor carry a conversation through the most tense of moments. His dress sense is a little wacky – skinny jeans, polo shirt and a bow tie – but Kurt can completely overlook that.

The only flaw in all of Blaine Anderson is the fact that he's completely straight, and with Santana Lopez. A woman most-sought after; drop-dead gorgeous, amazing in bed (apparently) and seemingly normal with him. They make one of the most gorgeous straight couples around. Which makes him want to gag. Why does he always go for the straight ones?

"Kurt?" Blaine nudges him, and is suddenly very close as he shakes him. His beautiful brown eyes are gazing into Kurts. He's speechless for a second. "Kurt, where did you go there? The girls are gone to the bathroom."

"Oh. Sorry, just daydreaming." (About you) "What were we talking about?"

"I was just laughing about the life of a lawyer. So, you're still in school?"

"College," Kurt corrects with a forced smile (he hates when people assume he's a kid), "I went back after a degree in music. I don't know what to do with my life, and so going back to college seemed a good option."

"Seemed?" Blaine asks, interested.

"Well, I can barely pay rent," Kurt laughs, making a joke out of it.

Blaine nods, "I'm sure once you graduate again, things will get going and you'll be drowning in money!"

"Now there's a way I wouldn't mind dying."

"How wonderfully morbid," Blaine jokes. "Besides, you live with your brother. I'm sure he cuts you some slack?"

"Oh, he does. But we also live with Puck! That man does not like waiting on people. Which is ironic, because we always have to wait on him."

"He seems like a funny, nice guy though. I like him." Something about Blaine's tone makes Kurt stop, but he puts it aside.

"Yeah, the big secret that he doesn't want you to know? He's a nice guy. Don't tell him you heard it from me though!" They both chuckle, and a comfortable silence settles. Kurt has been out with Blaine several times now, as he often comes out with Santana. Even so, he can't believe how utterly comfortable he feels around him. It's like he's known Blaine his whole life.

He suspects that's how Blaine makes everyone feel – welcome, warm, secure. It's no wonder this is the one Santana chose to actually give him the time of day.

Blaine surprises him then by saying softly, "It must be difficult."

It's strange. He doesn't specify what he's talking about or referring to, but Kurt understands exactly what he's saying. He nods, sure there's a disgusting amount of longing in his eyes, "It is."

The other man places a hand on his shoulder, "I'm sorry." Kurt's not sure why he would be saying sorry, but accepts this anyway. It's the only apology he'll ever get.

Brittany dries her hands leisurely, watching the water dissipate before her eyes. She finds it strangely entertaining, and calls out to Santana who is washing her hands still, "Why did you ask me to the toilet? I didn't have to go all that bad."

Santana flicks her hands and shakes them over the sink to dry them off. Brittany continues to talk, "Although, in hindsight, it's probably a good idea I did go. Could have had a run while pulling trousers down incident like last time. Anyway, is everyth-"

Her rambling, which she often does, is cut off as Santana grabs her hand and pulls her towards her. Blue eyes clash with deep brown for a minute, and then Santana crushes her lips to Brittany's. There's a passionate fury to the kiss that Brittany doesn't understand, but lets herself get lost in nonetheless. It's always this way. In the darkness of alleyways, in the privacy of their bedroom or a desolate bathroom or corridor. She's wanted more in the past, but now, she knows this is what she must settle for.

Santana pushes her back, until Brittany is sitting on the counter, with her friend in between her legs. Hands roam; Santana's are more urgent, more desperate, whereas Brittany's are slow and languid, enjoying her movements. Brittany's hands slip into Santana's hair as their tongues entwine, doing a dance that they're so familiar with, and Santana groans. Brittany bites her lip a little, trying to remind her where they are, but Santana only lets out a little moan.

She pulls back then, breathing heavily, hair mussed and pupils dilated so that her eyes are dark, darker than normal. Brittany recognises the look she's giving her, and Santana growls, "Don't look at me that way, B. I have to have you.. I—I need you Brittany. Tonight." There's a desperation that Brittany's not quite familiar with Santana, a vulnerability to her that makes it seem like she's pleading with her.

Either way, she isn't about to refuse, and allows Santana to quickly lead her out the back door to get a taxi. She knows they'll go home to their room, and what will happen from there. Neither of them remember Blaine, or their friends. (But then again, they never do.)

That's all for now folks! Thanks to those reviewing, I'd really love a few more though :D haha.. Also, don't forget about the poll on my page if you want to vote on endgame. You'll also notice I've changed the fic name back to "Friends", simply because the longer title annoyed me. Although I still don't like this title. How and ever!

Onto my disclaimers, there are quite a few... Don't own Friends or Glee first off - bet that surprised you - nor do I own "Brown Eyed Girl" by Van Morrison or "Stereo Hearts" by Gym Class Heroes. Also don't own chapter title "Nine Crimes" by Damien Rice.

Thanks for reading, and I'd love to hear your thoughts!
CN